The Devil's in the Details: Null and Void
by Pixieblade
Summary: I don’t really know if they ever showed exactly how the contract was worded or formed, so please excuse any AU-ishness on that end.


**Title: **The Devil's in the Details: Null and Void  
**Author/Artist: **Pixie-blade  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings: **I don't really know if they ever showed exactly how the contract was worded or formed, so please excuse any AU-ishness on that end.  
**Word count:** 1,285  
**Prompt:** 6/29/09; Kuroshitsuji; Sebastian x Ciel; Claiming/making the contract  
**A/N:** The poem at the bottom is from Hansel and Gretel-Grimm's.

'_Any alterations made on the part of the undersigned shall result in the Owner of said contract __eating__ the Undersigned."_

"Do you understand this, _Young Master?_" The demonic form jeered around honeyed words.

Dull amethyst eyes shimmered slightly in the orange tinged-darkness, half obscured in shadows and death as the boy-child drew himself up, stumbling as his knees gave way and he fell back into the charred remains of his once home, the black smoke billowing up around him as he brusquely flung tears from his soot stained cherub face in defiance.

"I am not some Hansel come to the Witch's House, _demon_. I am Lord Ciel Phantomhive, and I pledge my soul to thee in exchange for the damnation and destruction of those who have done this wickedness to me and mine!" He ground out, half dead yet still glaring up at the towering form in all its black leather and shinny buckles.

The outfit was provocative, unworldly, and entirely unsuitable for any man to be wearing, the boy thought. His Mother would have loved it. She had always been keen on the arts and theater was her favorite, all the grand costumes and fantasy, the masks and brocades, feathers and glittering lights of the stage.

But this was no stage and there was no grand performance yet to come. And even if the demon's eyes _did_ glitter a thousand times brighter and more captivating than the most bejeweled finery, and even if he _did_ wear this mask of sweetness wrapped around black contempt, his satiny feathers like ebony petals floating constantly around them, fluttering like so many birds on the non-existent wind that teased them back and forth. There was no fancy clothes party waiting for him at the end of this masquerade, his own soiled brocade and silken clothes disheveled beyond repair, he'd burn them later he decided, and no speck of this horror would enter his townhouse. Until the manor could be rebuilt that is; he'd vowed that along with so many other things this evening, not the least of which was perched on the fire kissed park bench he now kneeled in front of.

"If you agree to the terms: your soul for the utter destruction of those who did this, then come to me, we will seal this contract in a way most befitting of a young human Lord and a demonic King." He purred into the sudden stillness of the night.

One moon pale hand extended out towards Ciel, glowing in the firelight, black talons flashing the color of those ruby eyes and vermilion tongue. He could see it, and it fascinated him, forked slightly as it was, though not much and only visible when the other spoke to him in that _other_ language. The one he spoke the contract in, the one that burned and branded him, flesh to flesh, hand to eye, lips to lips as he struggled against an iron-hard embrace and body.

He could _see_, though he didn't want to. He never would have imagined the world the other lived in, how close it was to ours, the overlapping bestiality and cruel beauty that his own world looked like trough the eyes of a hunter. And a master one at that.

He thought he cried out, the sound rushing past his lips before his years of British stoicism kicked in, only to be swallowed up by the handsome devil before him. And handsome he was. Ciel was young but he wasn't stupid, and now that he could see the man's true form, he realized this one was merely another trap to lure in foolish humans who only saw the pretty wrappings and didn't bother to shake the package to determine it's true worth and nature.

But he wasn't foolish, he was worse, he was calculating and vengeful. He knew when his wish was fulfilled he'd die, more than die, because this gossamer darning fly of death would not only take his life, but his soul. He'd never see his family again. He'd never know the joy or the pain or the sadness of being human. But that was _alright_. He was British, he would persevere. He would conquer his enemies and he would watch them burn in hell and then he would tip his hat at the world and walk in beside them, his back bone straight, because once you become a monster, there's no turning back and he knew that better than anyone.

The demon smiled into his hair and nipped at his ear, purring the final line of the ritual, the mandatory question of Ciel's acceptance and name. Ciel wanted to spit in his face. A very ungentlemanly thing to do but it still didn't stop him from thinking it, from curling his lips back and almost growling at the man as he forcibly made his mouth move, his tongue and teeth do his bidding and it occurred to him then, the wording of his answer was important, necessary and possibly helpful to him in this situation. So he closed his lips, drew a deep breath and stood up straight in the other's embrace, smiling faintly at the cat-like bloody eyes and spoke.

"I, Lord Ciel Phantomhive, do bind my personage to thee for the length of time it takes us to uncover the murderers of my family and deal them swift and deadly justice for their crimes. Upon completion of this task I bind my soul to thee until such time as you tire of it. During this task I shall refer to you by the name Sebastian and you shall be as a servant in my house, bidden to my will and decree, protector of me and mine until such time as we have concluded this business, at which time we shall leave them as is and you may have my soul. So do I swear."

Ciel got immense satisfaction from the slightly raised eyebrow and puckered lips the other turned on him, though he knew it was only a trifling thing, at least in this one respect he was in control of some part of this.

"So little duckling, we are now bound you and I. But really…_Sebastian_? You couldn't come up with something better to call me?" His tone was lightly teasing in it's insincerity as he hoped back to perch on the bench.

Ciel swayed slightly at the loss of support, the ridged grip the only thing holding him on his feet; his knees buckling as he fell. In a heartbeat Sebastian was there, his hold gentle yet unwavering.

"Sebastian was my favorite dog. It is appropriate. Now, take me home, _Sebastian_, I'm much too tired to walk anymore." He stated flatly, all care or concern gone from his thin frame.

Sebastian picked the child up effortlessly, frowning slightly, "I despise dogs, you know. Very well. Sleep, Young Master, sleep." He whispered, gently brushing the blue-black hair from the boy's fluttering eyes.

As he turned to walk towards town he hummed under his breath, the soft melody wafting around them, hauntingly worming its way into Ciel's sleeping mind, his sing-song voice a mockery of London Bridges…

Little duck, little duck, dost thou see,

Hansel and Gretel are waiting for thee?

There's never a plank, or bridge in sight,

Take us across on thy back so white.

Fin.


End file.
